The Torso - poema de Robert Duncan



Most beautiful!      the red-flowering eucalyptus,

           The madrone, the yew


        Is he …


So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms

The sight of London to my exiled eyes

Is a Elysium to a new-come soul


                         If he be truth

                         I Would dwell in the illusion of him


His hands unlocking from chambers of my male body


                 such an idea in man’s image


          rising tides that sweep me towards him




                                    anda t the treasure of his mouth


                         pour forth my soul


                                     his soul              commingling


I thought a Being more than vast, His body leading

                  into Paradise,      his eyes

                                quickening a fire in me,         a trembling


               hieroglyph:          At the root of the neck


         the clavicle, for the neck is the stem of the great artery

             upward into his head that is beautiful


                                    At the rise of the pectoral muscles


the nipples, for the breasts are like sleeping fountains

       of feeling in man, waiting above the beat of his heart,

       shielding the rise and fall of his breath, to be



                                    At the axis of his mid hriff


the navel, for in the pit of his stomach the chord from

     which first he was fed has its temple,


                                 At the root of the groin


the public hair, for the torso is the stem in which the man

      flowers forth and leads to the stamen of flesh in which

      his seed rises


a wave of need and desire over         taking me


                              cried out my name


              (This was long ago.      It was another life)


                                                and said,

                           What do you want of me?



I do not know, I said.        I have fallen in love.        He

        has brough me into heights and dephts my heart

                        would fear         without him.       His look


            pierces my side     .       fire eyes     .


          I have been waiting for you, he said:

                                        I know what you desire


                       you do not yet know        but through me     .


         And I am with you everywhere.         In your falling


         I have fallen from a high place.            I have raised myself


                          from darkness in your           rising


                                                     wherever you are


                my hand in your hand         seeking        the locks, the keys


I am there.            Gathering me, you gather


                    your Self.


       From my Other is not a woman but a man


      the King upon whose bosom let me lie.         


                                                                                                                          Poema de Robert Duncan        1968

Nota: “Torso”, pintura-colagem do poema de Robert Duncan - ”The Torso”, é um livro de artista. É dedicado ao poeta Ricardo Marques.